His eyes wonder at me. His hands ask me all kinds of questions and his smile is gentle and shy and sweet as he waits for my reply. And, all of sudden I don´t know. All of a sudden I (who very rarely loose my words) can´t speak. My footing is gone (lost somewhere up north), my steps are faltering (their sureness seem to have remained with you), my voice is lost (I dropped it on the floor in that airplane and I´ve had trouble finding it ever since). I´ve been brave, very brave and I´ll take that with me, but I miss. And, however brave I am, you were the ones that made me that way. So, I wonder: (as always)
Is this still my adventure?
The Devil Makes Three – Black Irish
Inga kommentarer:
Skicka en kommentar